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Frank was ten years old when he first met his best friend. Her name was Georgia and she was ten too. They hit it off immediately, when you're ten you don't require much more than a playmate. They played together the whole Summer, all morning until lunch, and all afternoon until dinner. She was there waiting for him outside, every morning, and every afternoon, and they would play until he got hurt, or his mother called him in. He didn't need to know anything about her, because she knew everything about him.
Frank was fourteen years old when he started changing. Most of his peers had already experienced this, this no longer wanting to play, this no longer being able to just 'hang out' with girls like they used to. Frank wasn't close with anyone else with the exception of Georgia, but puberty wise, he was no different. She was with him through it all, she adjusted to his mood swings, his sparks of random anger, his desire to have fun doing nothing at all, she didn't mind. Georgia just wanted to be with him.
She was there the first sunny morning of Summer waiting outside his house for him to come outside and explore with her, every year. When the sun shone she would be waiting for him, but if it was ever downcast she would be gone, and Frank learned that when the weather was bad, it wasn't even worth waiting for her.
No matter how old he got, Frank was never too old to go exploring down around Carson's creek with Georgia. Riding on his very own red six speed mountain bike, Frank was free for the very first time starting at eleven. Every sunny day Georgia was waiting outside his house riding her sky blue Schwinn Stingray with the banana seat and the streamers dangling from the handlebars, and they would ride to Carson's Creek, ditch their bikes under the purple leaf bush and race into the forest.
The Summer the year that Frank was fifteen it was downcast and stormy for two full weeks before there was finally a sunny day. That first nice day Georgia waited on her bike for Frank for a longer time than she ever had to wait before. Frank's mother saw her waiting and came outside.
“Where's Frank?” called Georgia not leaving her banana seat.
“He's with his friends downtown,” said Frank's mother. “I thought he told you before he left...?”
“No, he didn't,” Georgia thanked Frank's mother and left.
Frank turned to see Georgia pull up on her bike. His friends, his black clad, sex god, marijuana smoking 'friends', had distaste drawn upon their faces in disagreeable grimaces. Georgia stormed up to him, a look of pure fury smashed into him through her brown eyes. Frank had never seen Georgia angry before, and it frightened him, but he couldn't let the other's see his fear.
“What do you want?” he asked coldly, cruelly.
“What do I want?!” she cried. “What do I want?! I want to know what the hell you're doing with these posers smoking brown trash when you should be hanging out with me!” Frank was shocked into dumbness, and before he could protest Georgia had wrenched the cigarette from his hand and smashed it into the ground with her sneaker. She shoved him down, yanked off his black leather jacket, got back on her bike and rode away. Frank looked out his window the following morning to see Georgia waiting for him on her bike.
Frank was sixteen the Summer he brought home Carly. Carly was his girlfriend, his first girlfriend, and his first kiss. He wasn't quite sure how to introduce his best friend to his girlfriend, but he did it, and both girls were civil. Frank still hung out with Georgia, but Carly often came along and they did less climbing around because he was afraid of looking foolish. Georgia's distaste for Frank's mild behavior was evident, but she gave her approval of Carly and Frank was too busy to mind.
Frank's eighteenth Summer he had only a week of free time home before he was to leave for college in Norway. Georgia waited outside his house and they rode together. It never mattered that Frank could drive a car, during the Summer, the rode bikes, simple as that. They sat at Carson's Creek throwing stones in the murky water and watching as the tadpoles scattered at the splash.
“Why are you so quiet Frank? It's Summer,” said Georgia, aiming an impressive throw in the midst of some young tadpoles.
“I'm leaving, Georgia,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “I'm going to college. I won't be back until at least Christmas.”
“So that's it then? You're just going?”
“Not really, I still have six days at least.”
“But those days will be full of packing and preparations. I won't see you again.”
“Yes you will! You can visit me! You can stay at my dorm and we can hang out just like before! It won't be that bad and-”
“No Frank, it's okay. You know I can't do that. We both know that this is the last time we'll be together.” She wiped tears from her eyes and smiled a bit, looking at the water, and then back at him.
“Why can't I see you again?”
“Because you won't need to Frank. You have your friends, and you have Carly, and soon you will have a job to go with that all. You will marry and have a family and you won't need me. All I ask, is that you don't forget your Summer friend Georgia.”
“I won't! I promise you Georgia, I could never forget you! Not for anything in the world!”
“Thanks Frank. I'll miss you.”
“I'll miss you to.”
Then Georgia jumped on her bike and rode away, and Frank went home and prepared for college, and eventually he graduated and had a family and his life went on as Georgia had planned. He never saw her again, but he never forgot his very first friend.